Study of an Intensivist
by Luveniar FurElise
Summary: My thoughts on Robert Chase, who intrigues me greatly. This is NOT intended to be a ChaseCam fic, it is simply my take on Chase. Oneshot, rated Kplus for a couple of swears. Pretty please review? Tomorrow's my birthday. Thanks and happy reading!


**A/N: **OKAY, so I know a lot of you are anxiously awaiting the next chapter of _Truth_. I've a three day weekend I will be devoting to that, but this idea tickled my mind yesterday and took complete hold over me this morning, again, while at work. MUCH thanks to the folks at twiztv for their transcripts, I used a lot of them for reference here. This study of one Robert Chase is, for the purpose of my story, removing the season two finale. Pretend that part never happened. Oh, and I'm so sorry if the ending seems rushed; I'm on my way to a midnight showing of Pirates of the Caribbean. Happy Birthday to me!(It's tomorrow - hb to Ringo Starr too!)

**Disclaimer: **I am claiming that I don't own House. But everybody lies. Or maybe that should be the other way around? You decide.

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_I'm an idiot,_ he thought to himself as he unlocked his front door. _We've worked together for nearly three years. Get over yourself, Robert!_ He dumped his pack and jacket on the armchair and proceeded to remove his shoes. He could still remember clearly the day she came in for her interview.

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He had been sitting at the conference table working on his crossword as usual, when she walked into House's office. He looked up, his pencil caught in his mouth as he observed the most beautiful girl he'd seen since leaving Australia. _Didn't know they made them like that here,_ he mused to himself. She had confidence in her stride, although a glance at her face and he could see she was nervous. Anyone would be, if they'd heard anything about the infamous Doctor Gregory House.

He couldn't hear the interview, but he angled his chair a little bit to watch over the top of the newspaper. House was talking to her with that sarcastic stare of his, trying to look serious while hiding doubt at this woman's abilities underneath. Chase snickered to himself. _Well at least we'll have something nice to look at if she can stand his attitude,_ he thought to himself.

He watched as the two of them stood up together, quickly shaking hands and exchanging polite smiles. She walked out of the office and down the hall towards the elevators with that same confident stride, but he thought he saw a look of relief wash over her face. He bent back over his crossword puzzle, trying to look like he had been concentrating hard on an eight-letter word for 'low pH.'

"What do you get when you cross a 3.88 GPA, an internship at the Mayo Clinic, and a perfect combination of genetics?" House asked as his limped through the inter-office door.

"Huh?" Chase didn't look up from his puzzle.

"That, oh young one," he replied as he pointed in the direction she'd gone, "is your new fellow employee." House flung her application onto the table and turned back towards his office. "Read up, she starts tomorrow."

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_Three years,_ he thought again to himself. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt and was sitting at his computer, idly surfing the internet.

After his mom died, he'd gone straight to seminary, having been granted release from his father's custody, since he was only six months away from being eighteen. His father hadn't even shown up at the hearing, sending his team of lawyers instead.

Robert Chase had been raised in the Catholic Church. At some point, before his father had started spending more time at the office and less time with his family, his mother had believed in God. As this perfect little family began to deteriorate, his mother being less and less secretive with her alcoholism, he had continued going to mass on his own, striking friendships with Father Hammond and some of the elders of the church. He was looking for a reason, a reason why God would take such people as young children and fling them randomly into the screwed-up lives of adults. When he began seminary, he had full intent on finding, once and for all, why God had allowed his beautiful mother to destroy herself slowly with a bottle.

He had been ready to complete his training and don his collar when something stopped him. He heard God speak to him, directly and forcefully, for admittedly for the first time in his life. _You are not meant to serve Me this way,_ he heard, a whisper in his head. And it was almost as if there was a hand pressed against his chest, forbidding him to enter the sanctuary and pray and be made into a priest. He closed his eyes to pray, but received no more. He hung his head and left, believing he'd failed.

After that day, he'd spent many afternoons just sitting in his apartment, staring at an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, a reminder of what not to do, thanks to dear mum. He didn't blame her, much. He finally decided to do the only other thing he knew: he went to medical school. He knew his father would, at the very least, help pay for his son to follow in his footsteps, and he did, without an actual word spoken between them.

He chose intensive care as a specialty because it reminded him of the people he'd longed to save as a priest; people whose hearts were lost and whose bodies were broken. Still, he slowly shoved that part of his life underneath all the rest, until he'd mostly forgotten God.

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He loaded his six-disc stereo with R.E.M. and set it to random play. He ordered a pizza and decided to clean up his desk. He sifted through take-out menus, letters from a couple of his old college friends, and found a picture Cuddy had taken from the poker tournament a few months ago. Cameron had looked like the perfect Christmas gift in that red dress. After everything that had happened with Foreman, he could understand some of the reasons why she was so infatuated with House.

He'd always known that the reason he got the opportunity to work with House was because his dad had made a phone call. He could never figure out why his father had walked out and continued to help his son along the way, albeit through lawyers and discreet phone calls, until it was too late. His father had been afraid to be called a failure, and because of that fear, he'd proved it true at the same time.

He also knew, after working with him for three years, that House would have never hired him if he didn't respect his experience as a doctor. After all, House had had plenty of opportunities to fire him, but he kept him on. Robert Chase had admitted to himself some months ago that he looked up to House as a slightly better role model than his own father.

It was Sister Augustine who reminded him why he'd become a doctor. He pulled his battered bible out from under another stack of papers and turned it to the passage he'd chosen so many years ago, the passage he'd told her about that day. After they'd cured her and discharged her, he stood outside the hospital chapel and realized that he hadn't failed that first big test. But he wasn't ready to face God again.

Suddenly the phone lit up. He'd set it to 'Do not disturb' almost as soon as he'd moved into the apartment; he could never stand the sound of a ringing phone. The caller ID told him it was Cameron, of all people. He cracked a small grin as he thought of the irony of it all.

"Hey," he answered plainly.

"So are you coming tonight?" Her voice came through with excitement.

"Yeah, of course, as long as House isn't cooking," he smirked.

"No, Wilson and Foreman have already called dibs on the grill."

"You need me to bring anything?"

"Nope, just yourself and anything you want to drink. I picked up some beer this morning and House brought the hard stuff." He heard rustling and cabinets closing. "Well, I guess you could bring some more chips and dip. Whatever works."

"Alright. I'll see you in a couple of hours, I've got a few things to do here."

"Okay! Later, Chase."

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He set his bible aside and cleaned up the last bit of junk cluttering his desk just as the doorbell rang. _Shit, forgot about the pizza, _he thought. He really hadn't planned on going to Cameron's fourth of July party, had all but blown her off the day before, but he still found it hard to say no to her melodic voice. He quickly paid the delivery person and stuffed the pizza into the oven to keep warm. _Breakfast for tomorrow, I guess._

He headed to shower and shave, tossing his casual clothes onto the bed to wear again. He set the water as hot as he could stand and brushed his teeth while waiting for it to warm up.

Although he'd had a few girlfriends as a teenager and been to a share of swinger parties and raves where people like Annette the dominatrix were a dime a dozen during his college years, he'd never _really _been in love. Part of the reason for this was because of his intense study before and during seminary, but most of it was just because he'd never met anyone who really interested him, at least not on a very intense level. Cameron had been something, someone, new. He admired her for the same reason House had, because she was beautiful and yet she'd busted her ass through medical school.

He'd reached a turning point when he finally met Andie. There was a nine-year-old girl who knew more about life than he did. He'd kissed her because he knew exactly what it was like to have missed out on something important in life. He'd kissed her because she was the toughest, most levelheaded nine-year-old he'd ever met, hell, the toughest female he'd ever met. And she had been nine. He'd glimpsed her a few more times when she came back for checkups with Dr. Wilson, but he'd done his best not to see her; he'd wanted her to keep that first kiss a special memory, never mind how odd everyone had felt about it at the time, himself included.

When Boyd's case had been presented to the team, House asked him if God had ever spoken to him in seminary. He'd lied, of course. The one time God had spoken to him had led to his being a part of this team. It didn't matter that they'd debunked some of what Boyd had said to them during his time at PPTH. "Why do you always do things you don't want to do?" he'd asked. _God told me to leave seminary,_ he'd thought to himself at the time.

He laughed to himself as he stepped out of the shower, thinking of the scoreboard he'd kept on the white board during that case. The part of him who knew better knew that he should have added another point to God's score.

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He stopped at the store around the corner from his apartment and stocked up for Cameron's party, grabbing chips, dip, and a bottle of Sangria. He remembered it was her favorite.

After Foreman had almost died, he'd looked for anything, any other work that would take him out of the diagnostics department for a few days. He'd been relieved when Cuddy granted him the NICU rotation. _Getting back to what I started doing as a doctor,_ he'd thought to himself. Of course House had been pissed; that had left him with one less person to bark orders at. Almost losing Foreman had shaken him harder than he was ready to admit.

Robert Chase arrived at Allison Cameron's townhouse at quarter to seven. Plenty of time to relax before House went crazy with the fireworks. He smirked. _At least there'll be doctors around if anybody blows themselves up._

Cameron had left her front gate open, so she ran over to help him as soon as she spotted him. "Hey!" Her smile matched her earlier enthusiasm. "I'm glad you could come." It was genuine, too. He smiled warmly back at her.

"I brought you some Sangria," he said, holding out the bottle. "Remembered it was your favorite."

"Thanks."

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Wilson and Foreman grilled; burgers, bratwurst, and steamed oysters. Cuddy got a little too drunk as she had the night of the poker tournament and started snapping more pictures. House set off fireworks like a twelve-year-old kid, a look of crazy glee in his eyes but hardly a smile. He nearly blew off a few fingers, no big deal. And Cameron…was Cameron. Robert Chase smiled.

"Happy Fourth of July, Chase." She said.


End file.
